We're Going Down
by rebeckon
Summary: Santana Lopez can't seem to understand her ever growing attraction towards one Sebastian Smythe. "It can't hurt you when it's only lust, right? And if you lie to yourself for long enough, maybe you'll convince yourself you'll never fall in love." Sebtana.
1. Smooth Criminal

**I don't really know if I'll continue this.. So let me know. I really hope you liked this. I picture it as an alternative ending to what the episode put out. **

**Review! It's what keeps me going and keeps me improving! And if you see any mistakes, I'm sorry, I wrote this very late at night. I'm not perfect. :) **

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><p>One of Santana's knees was pressed against her small frame as she sat on a slightly damp bench a block away from Dalton. Rain droplets leaked through cracks in the wood at the bus stop, occasionally hitting her bare skin and tumbling off just as fast. Crossing and uncrossing her legs, she fought viciously with the thoughts playing through her usually calm and collected (not to mention fierce) brain. She just didn't understand why she felt so demeaned.<p>

Understandably, she had been slushied, which was still something she had yet to get used to after all her years of being a Cheerio. But strangely that wasn't the part that got her flustered. It was the fact Meerkat face thought he could, and she let him get away with it. Since when did she hold her tongue? Never. She was from Lima Heights, where you lay everything on the line.

But not this time. And it haunted her like his touch brushing ever so lightly over her shoulder. Sliding off her fedora, Santana set it in her lap, running her hands through her hair with a growl. Her dark eyes floated over to the building, not too far in the distance. She regretted times like these, where she _somehow_ ended up too embarrassed with herself to even function properly. Her mind was flooded with obscenities and her actions were paralyzed, too effected to walk back and recover her keys.

And that was why she was sitting alone, at a slightly shady bus stop. Her pride just meant too much to her, seeing as it was practically all she had. She could feel the beverage clinging to her naturally flawless skin, and the eyes of Sebastian Smythe burning into flesh. An instant replay, over and over. Chills inched up her spine, her spine the ladder. Even her thoughts were taking a stab at her ego. _Go figure. _

She shook her head, beginning to unbutton her jacket. The teenager listened to the sound of rain hitting pavement while she dug in to undo a recorder (conveniently taped on her underboob, she mused). Holding the small black machine to her ear, she licked her lip in anticipation. Santana Lopez was not going to just sit there and fell sorry about herself, she never has, and she wasn't starting now. She might as well take pride in catching the little weasel.

"_What did you put in that slushie?" _Her voice cut through the fidgeting sounds of the recorder bouncing from her movement.

"_Rock salt... but it's okay." _ She could picture the bastard grinning ear to ear at her, his eyes squinting in pre-mature victory. Santana hadn't known what had been coming at that point in time.

"_Why is it okay-" _Santana clicked the recorder off, clutching it in her hand. She wasn't too keen on the idea of listening to the moment where she was rudely introduced to an ice cold slushie. _Never mind that,_ she thought to herself. _The jerk may have gotten me, but I'm definitely winning this war. _

Her mouth upturned into a devious smile. _Busted._

The Latina didn't have much time to revel in her (almost) win. She was without her keys, and had a thick coating of pure sugar and ice layering her caramel skin. The precipitation would take care of the latter. That left the important problem left to be solved.

After moment upon moment of mentally arguing with herself, Santana Lopez ultimately decided she'd better go back. At least by now, the Warblers would be gone, and she wouldn't have to risk another run in with Sebastian's smirk, among other things. Shoving the evidence back into the quarters of her jacket and tugging her hat on, the female withstood the rain as it crashed against her features with a sting that hardly matched that of her slushie facial.

It wasn't long before she found herself in the music room where she faced off against the male.

'_Annie are you OK?'_

'_Are you OK, Annie?'_

His fingers sliding along her shoulder blade, his eyes fixated on every part of her, his lips inches from her ear- she hadn't felt her personal space being so strongly violated, and sexually aroused at the time, in quite a manner before. It was rather disturbing, Santana thought, her memories replaying before her as she walked past the untouched scene. Even the red mush pooled on the tile was still there, evident the janitor hadn't gotten to that room during the time span that she left.

Sweeping a loose thread of hair behind her ear, she audibly laughed. "What am I doing? I need to just get my keys and get the hell out of here."

With the clack of her heels, Santana did a full sweep of the area. Every moment she paused to examine where they might have gone, she found her mind wrapped up in a recollection of what she wished to forget. Sebastian Smythe's ghost touch, and shockingly, how bad she wanted the fingertips to trace along her neck and down her prominent veins.

"Hold it San,_" _she interrupted her train of thought, practically speechless, "you just came out. You love Britt." _But you're sexually frustrated and his goddamn Meerkat face makes you want to wet your pants. _She couldn't deny their body chemistry; it was evident with the way they moved and made eye contact that tension was there. "You love Britt," the words were repeated. _But she doesn't fully understand that. _

"Dammit. What is wrong with me today?" She desperately wished she could blame her hormones on her period. She'd give anything to be able to say that. Santana wasn't though, and that was starting to look more and more like a problem.

_More bullshit later. Keys now. _Apparently she also needed to learn how to keep her priorities straight, especially when breaking into another high school full of kids who hate you, who could show up at any second.

The more she begged not to think about the entire situation, the more it overtook her thoughts. Every moment representing themselves in the heat of tension, which seemed so simple when the Latina first brought herself back to think about it, now was raging with more than she could have hoped to expect. Y_ou miss a lot when you're in the moment. _

Minutes rolled on by, unusually quick. With fifteen minutes passed, Santana seemed to gain more insight on her supposed sexual appetite for a gay(er than sin) Warbler than progress in finding her ticket out of the school. A sigh escaped her parted lips, chest falling in disappointment.

_Jingle._ Her head snapped up instantaneously. "Looking for these, Ms. Lima Heights?" She lacked the footing to turn around right away, taking a few short but deep breaths before regaining her composure.

"Sebastian." Her tone was flat, which was what she was ultimately going for, adding to the demeanor that she couldn't give a fuck about him or his presence.

Simply a smile from the boy. "You do realize you're on school property without permission right?" Santana raised an eyebrow, as if asking _what are you going to do about that?_

"I just came back for my keys, you know, so I can get home?" She rolled her darkly hued eyes, crossing her slender arms over her chest. "This may come as a surprise to you, but I don't really love Dalton as much as you think."

"Oh really?"

"Really."

"That's a shame," he said with a (seemingly accidental) half lip bite, his feet taking him into her general direction. "I really did think you would like to stay and have another drink on us. Or on you, to be more correct."

"If you bring out another fu-"

"I'm not going to. Give me some credit, Lopez." The sound of Sebastian's words hardly seemed genuine to her. She didn't want to argue though, for the fact it might only delay her from obtaining her keys even longer.

"I've give you some, when you deserve some." She observed the hand fumbling with her ring of car keys, mentally wanting him to just drop them and run his hands down the natural curve of her body. _Sexual tension is okay, _she reassured herself, _that does not mean anything is going to happen. Especially not with him, of all people. _

Santana stood under the shadow of his taller build, eyes narrowed, her attempt at intimidation (which usually went right, but today, was going all wrong). "Fine then," Sebastian dangled the keys over her fedora covered head, "I'll trade you. These, for something I want from you."

"And what do you want?" With a smug expression, she tapped her foot lightly against the ground in impatience.

She watched as he slid the key ring around his wrist, blinking in confusion. One hand shot around her waist, pulling her against his own body with a small thump. "What are you doing, I thought you were all up on Blaine's dick-" His hand cupped around her mouth, a way to silence her feisty comments.

"Are you done?" With wide eyes, unable to process the fact he ssh'd her, Santana stared at the male with a grunt of displeasure. Taking this as a nonverbal yes, the Warbler snaked his hand into the opening of her jacket. About to slap his hand in absolute horror and ferocity, it clicked in her head when she felt the device being ripped gently from her tanned skin with a light tearing noise. "This recorder, for your keys."

Still in his hold, she was caught off guard by his awareness to her plan. She taped it to her underboob, it was supposed to be full proof. "How did you know that was there-"

"Please," he scoffed, "Of course I knew-"

"-unless you were staring. At my boobs." Her tone was accusative. With no response, her jaw began to drop in awe. "Oh my god, you were looking."

Sebastian placed the keys in her hand, his signature smirk not as strong as it once was before. "You have me all wrong. I wasn't looking."

"Then explain to me how you knew!" The teenager from Lima Heights snapped back, only seeming to make his grip on her waist grow tighter.

"There's nothing to be explained-"

With chuckles of disbelief thrown in between her words, Santana pointed out, matching his previous smug facial expressions. "Bullshit! I can smell it all over you and read it all over your face." Sure, she was being hypocritical. He didn't need to know that though, he didn't need to know a lot of things. Like her memories, their lucidity, the longing hidden within them. At least for his body. The personality she could do without.

"I can read it on yours too." It got on her nerves with the way he said it so calm and nonchalant.

"So you admit that was bullshit." _Bingo. _She had him.

He let out a line of laughter, chest pressed against hers unevenly. "And so did you." Before she could spew another word, Sebastian raised his free hand to her mouth, "You didn't deny it."

He was absolutely right. She didn't.

Santana wondered if he could read thoughts, hers specifically. It couldn't be in the face- she was more than decent at hiding emotions on her facial expressions. Maybe it was the body language, the steps in which they danced. Whatever it was, it was highly creepy. "You didn't deny it either," she replied with a harsh whisper.

She especially wished he wasn't a mindreader at that very moment in time. In her own fantasy word, her lips were crashing into imaginary Sebastian's mouth like the tide: uncontrollable, wild, and exhilarating at the same time. Her hands would knot in his over gel'd hair, and palms would rest upon cheeks, yanking him towards her with easier access.

Suddenly, imaginary Sebastian seemed all too real. His features focused, and the nip of his kiss struck her with a shocking force that she couldn't have created. She, Santana Lopez, was kissing Sebastian Smythe. She didn't know whether she was repulsed or if she thoroughly enjoyed it. The only certain thing was that she couldn't pull away.

The heat of his breath nestled against the full shape of her smile as he pulled away. "I have nothing to say," he whispered, tucking the recorder into his breast pocket.

"You just ruined this moment by talking." Santana remarked wryly. In the back of her mind, she mentally slapped herself. _There was no moment. Just a mistake. _She glanced up, pushing away from his chest with a good clear of her throat. His eyes bore into her very being in that moment.

She absolutely hated it.

"Get out Lopez."

"Gladly," she struggled to inject her venom into the word. She was out of focus; in the wrong state of mind.

Her feet wouldn't move though. She felt as if they were tied down by weights, keeping her pinned in that very exact spot: directly across from the boy she couldn't bare to look at. It didn't seem to make sense. Santana took a sharp breath, trying to be subtle, struggling to find comfort in Brittany's image.

But it wasn't like she could guilt trip herself into not thinking about Sebastian. She only _loved _Brittany. There was no confirmed relationship, just minuscule boundaries that could hardly box her rising emotions in.

"Weren't you going?" He asked, after minutes of observing her and the way her face slightly scrunched or her eyes hinted at hatred. The confusion was easily recognizable, and he had no doubt about it. "Or is there something else you'd like to say? Or perhaps, do?"

His tone of voice hit her square in the chest. He knew. "No thanks, Seb-ASS-tian." Her heart sunk, body flaming up. "I'm leaving now." A twirl on her heel, she finally found the strength to lift her lead feet off the ground and head towards the doors.

"I'll be seeing you around, Santana." Even as she exited the music room, the very sound of his voice sent a waterfall of lust through every limb of her body. _What does he mean by that? _

She felt like she'd find out soon. But for now, she'd simply swing her hips out of Dalton, acting as if everything was okay.

'_You've been hit by, you've been struck by, a smooth criminal.'_

__When in actuality, everything was falling apart.


	2. Don't You Want Me?

**So, due to the amount of reviews and story alerts and favorites, I've decided to continue on with this for the time being. :) Thank you all!**

**I'm changing the rating from T to M, due to the swears.. Just to be safe. **

**I hope you guys like it, and keep reviewing! It's really what keeps my writing going!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, if I did, Sebtana would be canon for at least an episode or two. **

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><p>Santana sat in the back row, one leg crossed over the other, pinky linked with Brittany's. It was the usual routine in the music room where New Directions met. Her dark chocolate eyes fluttered over to the sight of Berry unwrapping her arms from her boyfriend to talk to Quinn and Kurt with an excited look on her face. Santana didn't really care.<p>

She unlatched her finger from the blonde's, gently patting her uniform free of any wrinkles and turning to face Mr. Schuester as he entered, walking to the center of the room. Santana never reconnected their hands. "Hello! How is everybody today?"

Rachel was the first to spring up, squeezing her way past the other's chairs to find her way next to the teacher. "I know no one doubted it," she began, grinning up in the general direction of Finn (which the Latina noticed her eyes were slightly more fixated on a certain blonde in between him and Kurt), "but I, Rachel Berry, and Kurt Hummel have made it as finalists in NYADA!"

The people who actually cared cheered enthusiastically, and Santana found herself clapping for Kurt more than anyone. "Congratulations you guys!" Mr. Schue beamed, with his own exaggerated clap. "First Quinn with Yale, and now NYADA for Rachel and Kurt! It's really starting to kick in that this is my last year with a good amount of you."

Everyone masked their frowns with words of congratulations to the two. The idea of New Directions eventually becoming nothing but a memory just didn't seem real to any of them. Even Santana had to agree she'd missed the musical geeks when she graduated.

"Okay, okay, settle down," the curly haired man in charge waved his hand for their attention before going to write on the board. The word 'Rejection' was written in red ink. "This week, I want you guys to find a song about rejection. I want you guys to look rejection right in the eye, and be able to grow from it. You'll face a lot of it when you're older."

Santana smiled at the assignment. It seemed simple enough to her. The first thought on her mind was Sebastian and the permanent look of smugness on his face. How she wished she could wipe it off.

Glee club went by fairly fast. Most of the teenagers spent most of the block planning and brainstorming the songs they wanted to do, whereas a select few (aka Berry) went on a rampage about NYADA, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she went on excitedly. The subtle brushing off of her boyfriend didn't escape Santana's gaze. _Just another thing to spread on the gossip train_, she thought to herself.

Brittany was talking to her about something at that point in time but she couldn't find herself following any of her words- whether they made sense or she could see was herself siting in Rachel's position, a long tanned leg draped over Sebastian's as he leaned into her with a stare that burned into her. And there she was, ignoring the blonde entirely to be eye-fucked by Queen Warbler himself.

Hands touching her slightly exposed thighs, mind racing as fast as her heart. His grip on her hips tightened as he pulled her closer to his mouth, Brittany babbling and Sebastian's lips parting...

The shrill sound of the school bell saved her from the fantasy, snapping her back into reality to find a confused Brittany waiting to take Santana's hand. With a deep breath, she shook the image from her (corrupted) brain and took it with a sense of comfort overwhelming her body.

Maybe her rejection towards her wild thoughts would be good enough to sing about.

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><p>Santana Lopez stood in the middle of the auditorium stage, mike stand softly pressed to her lips. Her hips swayed as she queued the band to begin the number, as she ran a hand down the front of the cropped white tank hanging off her torso.<p>

_ "Uh uh uh uh uh uh uh oh,_

_Uh uh uh uh uh uh uh oh!"_

She panted as she began Pink's infamous "U + Ur Hand", her song pick for the Rejection assignment for Glee Club. Her mouth curled into a smirk towards the empty rows of seats.

"_Check it out_

_Going out_

_On the late night_

_Looking tight_

_Feeling nice_

_It's a cock fight_

_I can tell_

_I just know_

_That it's going down_

_Tonight"_

And there he is, smirking right back with a look of arrogance, sauntering down the aisle as she sang. "This song about me, Santana?" Sebastian called over the music, every second inching closer and closer with his stride. "Of course it is, how silly of me to ask." Panic struck her chest at the sight of him, unable to comprehend whether she should keep singing or sock the weasel in his snotty face. Or jump him. She decided on either one but the latter.

"_At the door we don't wait cause we know them_

_At the bar six shots just beginning_

_That's when dick head put his hands on me_

_But you see-"_

She was suddenly cut off by the silky sound of his voice, his singing a combination of a whine and moan of "Don't You Want Me".

_ "It's me who put you where you are now_

_And I can put you back down too_

_Don't, don't you want me?_

_You know I can't believe it_

_When I hear that you won't see me?"_

The Cheerio couldn't believe her ears, as he battled to out-sing her and every word she belted. An angry and powerful song of rejection poisoned by Sebastian's sly grin and smooth vocals. They walked around each other in circles, never breaking their intense eye contact, her eyes narrowed and his shining.

"_I'm not here for your entertainment_

_You don't really want to mess with me tonight_

_(Don't you want me baby?)_

_Just stop and take a second_

_I was fine before you walked into my life_

_(Don't you want me ohhh?)_

_Cause you know it's over_

_Before it began_

_(Don't you want me baby?)_

_Keep your drink just give me the money_

_It's just you and your hand tonight_

_(Don't you want me ohhh?)"_

It wasn't long before he was climbing up the stairs, hopping onto the main stage. The way he moved, it felt like he was stalking her as if he was a lion and she was the prey. He licked his lips, his breath reaching the back of her neck as he approached her.

"_It's much too late to find_

_You think you've changed your mind_

_(Listen up it's just not happening)_

_You'd better change it back or we will both be sorry_

_(You can say what you want to your boyfriends)_

_Don't you want me, baby?_

_(Just let me have my fun tonight)_

_Don't you want me, don't you want me baby?_

_(Alriiiiiiiiiiight!)" _

Santana wailed on the last note, turning away to face him square on as he kept singing the refrain. She could still feel the warmth of his breath still lingering, the feeling flowing down her spine. As he came towards her, she lightly tapped him back, waving her finger at him in mock disappointment.

"_I'm not here for your entertainment_

_(No no no)_

_You don't really want to mess with me tonight_

_Just stop and take a second_

_(You want me, don't you want me?)_

_Just take a second_

_I was fine before you walked into my life_

_(You know you want me, baby)_

_Cause you know it's over_

_Before it began-_

_(Don't you want me baby?)_

_I don't want you baby"_

The music and lights cut out all in one. Santana's lungs gasped for air. "I won this rematch, Smythe," her voice was coy, echoing through the darkness. No response. "What are you doing here anyway?"

She could feel the theoretical clock ticking in her mind, letting her know that time had passed, and still no answer. Like she was alone in that theater room.

"Smythe?" She asked softly, only a fraction of the venom in her tone. She awaited a response from the Warbler, reaching out to touch the air where he once that moment, she wanted collapse onto the stage floor. Her body vibrated with a feeling of betrayal from her brain. "What are you doing in my head, Sebastian? You trying to fuck me there too?"

She knew it wasn't his fault, but it was all she could handle then. She did not want to admit, even to herself, that she was (consistently) fantasizing about the male she wanted to strangle most.

Regaining the strength in her legs, Santana wiped at a bead of sweat on her forehead, subconsciously deciding to pretend that the previous events had not happened. It sounded like a good idea at the time.

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><p>When Santana had gotten home from her performance that evening, she found herself staring at her phone with a troubled sigh. She had just kicked off her shoes and hopped on her bed when best friend and part time lover had texted her.<p>

_**From Britt: **__hey s, breadstix tonight? pleaseeee? i miss u :)_

Of course she wanted to go, it was Brittany, _of all people_, but she didn't know whether or not she was mentally capable of keeping her mind on her favorite blonde all night in light of recent events. Though it was Brittany, _of all _people_, _meaning she couldn't resist. She looked over to the clock flashing red on her night stand, then back to her phone before beginning her response.

_**To Britt: **__Of course Britt, what time? and I miss you too :)_

She'd have to take the chance for her. In truth, the Latina really did having casual "dates" with her. Lately, she had been blowing Brittany off, even though she really didn't have a clue why. Well maybe a slight clue. But again, that whole admitting thing.

With a slight turn on her back, Santana's sight found her ceiling. White and boring. Kind of like Sebastian. She cursed at that last thought. "You even find him in something like your ceiling, you're pathetic."

Her phone buzzed on her chest, a perfect excuse to, yet again, leave thoughts like that behind.

_**From Britt: **__7! see u then! :leheart:_

_**To Britt: **__See you then, B _

For some reason, a pang of guilt struck her square in the gut. Maybe it was the lack of a heart she "forgot" to type, or the constant flash backs to her duel with Sebastian during _Smooth _Criminal_, _but the feeling was impossible to describe. Santana Lopez, did not feel remorse or guilt. Ever.

Not before long, she was ready to go. Physically, not mentally. During the time between her last sent text to Brittany and the time she was out the door, all she had thought about was how to pay attention to the blonde, and not on Sebastian. No possible situation seemed to work in the scenarios she played in her head.

So, of course wasn't exactly ready for her date.

The car ride to Brittany's was semi-bearable. It was the drive to Breadstix with her in the passenger seat that drove her wild. It didn't even take her a moment before she started babbling on with her sweet voice.

"I missed you and your kisses, Santana," the blonde smiled innocently at her, resting a hand on her arm with a gentle touch.

"I missed you too, Brittany." It wasn't like she didn't miss her, because she did, but her body slightly tensed at the contact. She needed to sort out her thoughts and priorities.

The rest of the ride was silent until they arrived at the restaurant. Filtering in, pinkies locked, Santana and Brittany were escorted to their usual table. They sat opposite from each other, this time their hands not touching as they sat there, waiting for the waiter.

Brittany tilted her head in a cute manner. "You okay, Santana?"

The tanned female nodded, encouraging her best friend to believe her. "Of course, Britt, I'm absolutely fine." Her words would have been almost convincing if she hadn't turned her head to look across the restaurant floor. With slightly enlarged eyes, she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "Excuse me for one second, Britt, I'll be right back."

Santana pushed out of her seat with her signature "displeased" look, not believing what she was seeing. "Sebastian Smythe," she started, a hand on her hip as she approached his table, "and Blaine Anderson. What on EARTH are you two doing here, together?"

No, she couldn't believe her eyes. And neither could Blaine.


End file.
